The Web and the Stars Read online

  Below, he saw his palace guards pour out of the bastion, running toward the woods. He sent them a telebeam message, telling them what had happened, and ordering them to find out who had shot at him.

  Parais opened her white wings to full extension and beat them rhythmically, heading west.

  “They’ll investigate,” Hari shouted, raising his voice over the sound of the wind. “Even if the assassin survives and escapes—or if his confederates take the body away—I know I hit him, and he’ll leave cellular material behind. With the DNA of every Mutati on file, we’ll find out who did it.”

  “But what if your father sent an assassin after you?” she asked. “Maybe he found out about us.” She looked back as she flew, her features profiled against the blue, cloudless sky. Her blond hair flowed like a mane on the back of her neck.

  “The Zultan wouldn’t kill me for loving an aeromutati, though he might disinherit me for it. He has threatened to kill me if he gets tired of me, but I think it’s all bravado. He wouldn’t sentence his only heir to death for that.”

  “What happened, then?”

  “Assuming it’s not one of your old boyfriends, I’d say the merchant princes activated a sleeper agent. Now, where are you taking me?”

  “I told you where I wanted to go … and now you’re in no position to argue.”

  An hour later Parais circled over a familiar, isolated stretch of red sand beach, scattered with driftwood. Aquamarine waves lapped gently against the shore.

  The lovers had been there many times before, in utmost secrecy.

  Chapter Twelve

  It is said that twins have a unique, even clairvoyant connection. I have never delved into that realm, at least not to my knowledge. Still, I sense something horrible is going to happen to my brother. In fact, I’m certain of it.

  —Francella Watanabe

  For two decades Francella Watanabe had done her best to forget her son and only child, to set aside the fleeting images she’d had of him as a newborn baby, the dangerous, unintended glimpses she’d stolen before having him removed from her sight and taken away forever.

  Now, a burly guard escorted Francella into a side entrance of the prison where her son was incarcerated. She felt leaden, uncertain if she wanted to go through with this. But she kept pace.

  In due course, Francella had learned the name given him by his foster parents … Anton Glavine … along with bits and pieces about what he was doing and where he was. She’d heard he was a member of Noah’s interplanetary environmental force, and eventually that Noah and Anton were holed up on the orbital Eco Station. They had fled there after an incident in which her own Corp One forces—in a joint venture with the Doge’s Red Berets—attacked her brother’s Ecological Demonstration Project. She’d known her son was on the orbiter but had wanted to destroy it anyway, since her hatred for her brother was so much greater than any love she felt for Anton.

  But Lorenzo, upon learning of Anton’s whereabouts, had refused to attack the orbiter. Anton was his son, too. What an unfortunate set of circumstances. She had thought for sure that she would kill her brother there, finally cornering him and wiping him out of existence. It had been an infuriating wrinkle in her plans.

  Then, in another unexpected twist that followed, she had seen Anton Glavine at the Canopa pod station, where she’d encountered Noah only moments before. She had been trying to kill her brother again, this time by shooting him in the chest… but like a demon, Noah had come back from the dead and regenerated his flesh. Damn him! In all the commotion, Anton had been arrested and taken into custody by the Red Berets.

  Since that time Francella had been thinking about her son, unable to get his face out of her mind. After all these years, seeing her own child! He’d grown into a fine-looking young man, with features that reminded her of Doge Lorenzo.

  Following Anton’s arrest, she had obtained a DNA test on him to be certain, and it confirmed his parentage, showing the undeniable genetic markers. Francella had paid to keep the report secret, but apparently no amount of money was enough for that. She should have known that nothing was secret from the Doge, especially when it concerned his own son.

  Lorenzo had brought the report to her himself, slapping it down in front of her. It had not changed anything. For months the two of them had assumed Anton was their son based upon available information, and now they knew for sure.

  The Doge might even know what she was doing at this very moment, wearing a black cape as she hurried through the dark of the night. If so, he wasn’t doing anything to stop her.…

  The guard pointed down a rock corridor, and allowed Francella to walk through it by herself. As instructed, she halted at the end, and peered through the soft orange glow of the electronic containment field of a cell.

  Anton sat in orange illumination, on the edge of his bunk. His blond hair was combed straight back, and he had a bound copy of the quasi-religious Scienscroll open on his lap. Looking up at her, he quoted from one of the verses: ‘“The night washes men’s souls; it is the time of true honesty.’”

  She considered the passage, recalling a bygone time when her late mother had read such verses to her and Noah in their childhood, while they sat at her feet. The words sounded familiar.

  “I know who you are,” Anton said, “and I have no more feelings for you than you have ever shown for me.”

  During the past two decades, Francella’s aides had sent regular support payments for her son, though she had tried to remain detached from him emotionally. But seeing him at the pod station, something had changed, making her want to see him and speak with him.

  “I don’t blame you for saying that,” she responded. Then, unable to deal with her own emotions, she whirled and left.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It is the Second Law of Thermodynamics. All things move from structure to waste, from useful energy to energy that is no longer available. Timeweb, the infrastructure of the galaxy, is no exception. It has fallen prey to the dark, degenerative forces of Entropy.

  —Report to the Tulyan Council of Elders

  Tulyan Starcloud …

  Having been ordered to perform timeseeing duties for the Parviis, Eshaz had been conducting sessions in an anteroom of the Council Chamber. Each of these comparatively small enclosures was different from the others, and—if any Tulyan desired more privacy—each anteroom was capable of floating freely in the sky around the inverted dome of the central chamber. At a thought-command, Eshaz could engage or disengage from the dome. In a very real sense this was more a perceived sense of privacy, and an ephemeral one, since at a touch Tulyans could read the thoughts of each other, or of other races. But the private anterooms permitted some Tulyans more mental latitude in their creative and paranormal thinking abilities, a temporary respite from the constant mental linkages around them.

  Thus far, over a period of days, Eshaz had been unable to timesee anything, and Woldn had grown increasingly upset. It had been Eshaz’s intention from the beginning not to report anything to the Parviis, but he had honestly attempted to timesee anyway, to no avail. He heard the buzzing discontent in the background as he tried to focus, and knew in his heart this would be another failed day.

  The sound grew louder. Opening his eyes, Eshaz saw Woldn and his band of tiny, flying Humans hovering in front of him, their buzzing sounds coming through some internal vibration of their bodies, since they had no wings. “We’ve had enough of this!” Woldn said. “You’re faking!”

  Eshaz withheld his comments, and his energy. Calmly, he sent a thought-command, and the anteroom floated back into its connecting port on the topside of the Council Chamber. “We shall discuss this with the Elders,” he said.

  “Oh, we will do that!” Woldn and his entourage sped out of the anteroom the moment the door opened. They were waiting for him, when Eshaz marched purposefully into the large central chamber and faced the Elders.

  “Let me begin by saying that I have not been disingenuous,” Eshaz said, gazing up at t
he broad-necked First Elder Kre’n.

  She looked at him sternly, then stepped down from the bench. Approaching Eshaz, she touched his scaly bronze skin and closed her eyes.

  Eshaz trembled as he felt the mental linkage, the two-way flow of information between them. It was not a complete transference by either of them; barriers still remained. Some were partial, while others were full and complete barricades. This was normal.

  All grew silent to Eshaz, except for a faint, rushing inner sound as data flowed back and forth. He tried to calm himself, knowing that more details about how he had healed Noah Watanabe were emerging, beyond what he had already told the Council. Eshaz felt the outward flow of truth, the immensity of what he did to Noah and the web.

  He detected Kre’n’s probing questions on the subject, that she was not yet getting everything she wanted to know. Even with the skin contact—the truthing touch—she was not learning all of the reasons for Eshaz’s momentous and dangerous decision, including the full details of his history with the remarkable Human. Somehow, Eshaz’s internal barriers were holding this back, but he would tell her anything she wanted to know if she ever asked him.

  But he realized that he was not conscious of all of the reasons himself. Maybe there were subconscious motivations, or other forces at work that he did not understand himself. Despite what he and his people knew about Timeweb, it remained an infinitely mysterious realm, a massive puzzle with only a small number of its pieces showing.

  Kre’n withdrew. Then, looking emotionlessly at Woldn as the tiny creature hovered near her, she said, “This timeseer has told you the truth. It is incontrovertible.”

  Looking deep into Eshaz’s eyes, she added, “There, may, however, be a way of opening the pathways of his mind even more, of moving aside whatever may be blocking full revelation. For that, the Council must be alone with him.”

  Grumbling, Woldn at first refused to leave. His words were loud, despite his diminutive size. “You Tulyans have always been a nuisance, and never deserved to hold dominion over podships. We’ve taken them away from you, but you still find ways of causing problems, of interfering with our rightful mission in the galaxy.”

  “Woldn,” Kre’n said, “with all due respect to your position, I must point out how … undiplomatic … your remarks are. Perhaps you would be better served to deal with us through a professional ambassador, instead of personally.”

  The Eye of the Swarm shouted, “I will hear no more of this!”

  In a huff he attempted to leave, but at a signal from Kre’n, the guards blocked his exit, sealing the chamber off. At this he raised a commotion, citing all kinds of treaty violations that were being committed against him.

  Calmly, the First Elder returned to her chair, and gazed dispassionately at the angry leader. Like a small cloud of insects, they flew one way and another, attempting to escape. Eshaz saw the twenty Elders unite their thoughts, recognized the little signs of this, the subtle, matching twitches on all of them, the simultaneously blinking sets of eyes, the way their gazes moved as if from the eyes of a single organism. They were in mindlink.

  Gradually the Parviis stopped their tirade, and settled down.

  “The guards will escort you back to the anteroom,” the Council members said, their voices perfectly synchronized. “We will summon you after our private session.”

  With no choice in the matter, Woldn and his entourage flew away, following guards out a door that was opened for them.

  * * * * *

  Now Eshaz faced the entire Council of Elders, inside the inverted dome of the Council Chamber, floating in the misty, ethereal sky. Still in mindlink, the wise leaders stared down at him sternly. First Elder Kre’n sat in the center of the arched table. On her left sat the towering Dabiggio, the largest Tulyan Eshaz had ever seen. He did not look well, and had droopy, tired-looking eyes, skin lesions, and reddish patches of skin where the scales fell off.

  Eshaz had heard stories of physical problems suffered by Tulyans in recent months, for the first time in their long history. Many were suffering from fatigue, and their missing scales were slow to grow back, if they did at all. Tulyan leaders said that the weakening of Tulyan bodies spelled the approaching end of their immortal lives, and it was somehow tied to the problems with the deteriorating cosmic web.

  Dabiggio was the first victim Eshaz had seen first hand. It struck him as curious that the Tulyan Starcloud had not shown any signs of web deterioration in its sector, but its citizens were being impacted first. He assumed that the starcloud would show signs of decay as well, and soon.

  Answering their unspoken questions, Eshaz expanded on what Kre’n already knew. He elaborated on how he had healed the Human, Noah Watanabe, by allowing Timeweb nutrients to flow into his dying body… and how Noah thereafter gained access to the web through his mind.

  Eshaz also described how he met Noah Watanabe years ago, when the Human led a fledgling activist organization with a forgettable name, the Planetbuilders. Eshaz gave him a much better name for the organization that reflected its multi-planet importance: the Guardians. The Tulyan also made a number of operational recommendations and went to work for the organization, as his busy schedule permitted. After that, the Guardians grew in number and in prominence.

  “I believe in Noah completely,” Eshaz said. “This Human may become the first truly important member of his race, on a galactic scale.”

  Speaking in unison, the Council said, “Guilt over your Timeweb infraction may have blocked you from timeseeing, weighing heavily on your mind.”

  Dismayed but not ashamed, Eshaz refused to hang his head. Instead, he looked at his superiors steadily and said, “I never felt guilt over what I did for Noah. I did it for the good of the galaxy … to fulfill my sacred caretaking oath. As I told you earlier, he may be the one spoken of in our ancient legends … the Savior we have awaited for millions of years.”

  “We need not remind you,” the eerie voices retorted, with more than a hint of irritation, “that no matter the idealistic intentions and efforts of Noah Watanabe, there have never been any great Humans on a galactic scale. Humans are known to be limited by their pettiness, shortsightedness, and proclivity for warfare. They are parochial creatures, lacking in compassion or foresight.”

  The Elders released their mindlink, and one of them, a smallish male known as Akera, spoke separately. “Nonetheless, we are willing to reserve judgment about Noah. You may be correct about him, though there is no way to tell yet, based upon the limited evidence available.”

  “I have told you all I know,” Eshaz said, “even what is in my heart.”

  “You are to increase your timeseeing efforts for the Parviis,” Kre’n said. “And do not even think about concealing anything from them. It is not only a matter of treaty, but of honor.”

  “As you wish.” Eshaz bowed.

  “Afterward, you have our permission to return to Noah’s Guardians at the first opportunity,” Kre’n said, “as soon as space travel is reopened to Human-controlled worlds.”

  “We want you to protect the Human,” Akera said. “Help break him out of prison if you can, and keep him from causing harm to the fragile environment of Timeweb. We cannot do that from afar.”

  “It may also be necessary to eliminate him,” Dabiggio said. He coughed. “If he proves dangerous.”

  Eshaz recoiled at the vile thought. He knew little of violence, and could not imagine committing it against anyone, especially not against a man whom he had come to admire so much. But what if he had been wrong about Noah? What if the concerns of the Council proved well-founded?

  I am a caretaker of the web, Eshaz reminded himself. I must do whatever is necessary.

  * * * * *

  Having been summoned to return, Woldn and his followers flew back into the chamber like an angry swarm of bees. They were in high fever, flitting around, buzzing in the faces of the much larger Tulyans, but eliciting no physical or verbal response.

  “Our timeseer is ready to serv
e you,” the First Elder announced.

  “You’ve cleared the cobwebs out of his head?” Woldn asked.

  Eshaz glared at him.

  “I have ordered a rendezvous of my people,” Woldn said, “and I cannot waste more time here.” He flew in front of the Council members. “You have failed in your obligation.”

  “Then the timeseer will go with you,” Kre’n said. “Summon a podship and transport him to your rendezvous point.”

  “That is out of the question. No outsider is permitted to know where we meet. Now let me out of here!”

  “You refuse the services of a timeseer when he is prepared to fulfill his duty?” Kre’n said. “That sounds like a treaty violation to me. Now you must remain here to work through the problem. It has very serious diplomatic consequences, which this Council cannot ignore.”

  “You’re wasting my time!” Woldn shouted.

  “You waste your own time by being obstinate,” Kre’n insisted. “Can’t you conceal the location of your meeting place from Eshaz, blindfolding him, preventing him from seeing?”

  “You are all mind readers when you touch us, but we do have ways of concealing something so essential, something so vital to the survival of our race. Very well! The recalcitrant timeseer will come with us.”

  Woldn summoned a podship. It arrived in a matter of moments, with a distant green flash and a rumble as it entered the atmosphere of the starcloud. The craft made its way to the outside of the Council Chamber, and landed on a flat portion of the top, opposite the inverted dome.